


Scars Like These

by killmetatron



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addict!Cas, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Drug Use, Falling In Love, Heroin, Insanity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Overdosing, Rehab AU, Rehabilitation, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Suicide Attempt, Supernatural AU - Freeform, suicidal!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1246327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killmetatron/pseuds/killmetatron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Milton is living the dream. Or so he thinks when he is under the influence. Unsurprisingly, Cas eventually finds himself admitted to Barden Avenue Rehabilitation Center after a serious drug overdose, and there he meets the ever-mysterious Dean Winchester. Through whispered chats at the tables of the day room and notes slipped discreetly to each other during group therapy, Dean’s tragic backstory unfolds and Cas confides the details of his own dark past in return. Locked in the ward together for who knows how long, they become close friends and even begin to trust each other. Soon enough, Castiel Milton finds he has fallen hopelessly in love with Dean Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We All Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [devilstrapped](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilstrapped/gifts).



Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Cas sat at a table on the northern side of the the day room with his head down, groaning quietly. How had it only been 18 hours? It felt like days. Weeks, even. He had only arrived last night but every passing minute felt like a lifetime. Surely the clocks in this godforsaken place were wrong. Surely they had been slowed significantly as some elaborate prank devised to fuck with him or make him crack again. This must be some extremely detailed trick they were playing on him. They wanted him to go completely crazy in here. His depression and anxiety and drug addiction weren't enough. No, they wanted him to completely flip out. Well, he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. Not in here. He wasn’t going to flip out ever again, in fact, he decided. He was done feeling that way. He was done bottling everything up or ignoring it until it exploded. He was done with numbing himself until all of the vile, twisted thoughts and emotions in his brain exploded, demanding to be felt.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Was the clock getting louder, or was it the blood rushing to his head magnifying the sound? No, that couldn't possibly be it. He couldn't hear anything else anymore. Just the flow of blood making waves on his skull and the goddamn ticking of that horrible clock. He didn't know what was going on. He barely even knew where he was anymore. The edges of his field of vision began blur. Was his brain drowning in its own fluids? He didn't know. All he knew was the sound of the clock was taunting him more and more with each tick. It was out to drive him insane, he was certain now. All it wanted was to remind him of the passing time he was spending in a locked ward when he could be outside, enjoying life. He needed to get out of here as soon as possible. Cas began to tap his foot impatiently.

Tap. Tick. Tap. Tick. Tap. Tick. Tap. Tick. Tap tap tap. Ti-

“AARRRGGHHH!” Cas belted out, grabbing his hair in two tight fists and standing up faster than he intended to. His senses returned in a rush. He knew where he was and what was going on. Not only that, but he was mad as hell about it. The chair he had been sitting in flew backwards and fell to the ground with a crash. The black, plastic backrest hit the neighboring table on its descent and upset a board game that two other patients were playing. The patients were already staring at him and barely seemed fazed about needing to start the game over now. Before the alarmed, shouting nurses even reached him, Cas was already squatting on the floor, curled up in a ball with his head between his knees and rocking back and forth. He was mumbling nonsense until suddenly he exploded again, remaining bent over but letting his emotions extend out to the ends of the day room in the form of a scream, carrying the words he had needed to say for far too long but had never had the courage to verbalize until now, here, in a locked ward where she couldn't harm him.

“FUCK YOU, RUBY!” he bellowed, cursing the beautiful brunette who had been the beginning of his descent into the madness of drugs and more drugs that led him to this nightmarish ward. He felt like he was in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, and that wasn't exactly anyone's first choice of a book in which to live. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up from the floor so quickly a sharp pain shot down his neck. The ticking clock got even louder and then seemed to stop entirely for a moment as he gasped at the face that greeted him. Ruby was standing behind him with an outstretched hand resting on his shoulder. Her brunette hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but a loose strand fell in front of her face. She gingerly tucked it behind her ear with softly bent fingers. Much too soft for a monster of a drug dealer like her.

“Relax, Castiel. It’s just me,” she said, softly. The clock jumped back to its jeering in that moment, louder than ever before.

TICK. TICK. TICK.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” he screamed, pushing her to the ground and scooting away as quickly as he could. He scurried away until his back met a cold, white wall. Ruby stood up, brushed herself off way too calmly for someone who had just been pushed, and approached him again, offering a hand.

“Cas, it’s Meg. Remember me? I’m the nurse who checked you in,” Ruby said. She tried to grab his hand with her outstretched one, but he slapped it away. 

“LIAR!” Cas shouted, and when she touched his arm again, he screamed it again, even louder, “LIAR! LIAR LIAR LIAR!” He threw the punch he had been holding back for months now, and before it could even land on Ruby's pretty little face, a firm hand grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back. A split second later, Cas found himself lying on his stomach with his right cheek pressed against the cool tile floor and his arms held firmly behind his back by a man's large hands. He felt a sudden, sharp prick in his ass and tried to scream again, but before he could even choose the words to scream he suddenly he felt much calmer. Everything slowed down. The last thing he heard before he fell asleep was the clock on the wall, taunting him again with the passing time as he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Tick... Tick.... Tick...


	2. Damned If You Do

Tick, tick, tick.

The next few days passed by slowly, but they passed, and still Castiel remained no closer to freedom from his therapeutic prison. Cas sat each day at the same old square table, imprisoned by the blank white walls of the day room. He retired each night to his bedroom, which was almost exactly the same as all of the other bedrooms on the unit. There were rows and rows of nearly identical bedrooms down the two hallways that were adjacent to the day room, and Cas slept in room 225, the last bedroom on the right side of the right hallway. 225 was tucked away in the corner of the unit, which was just where he would have wanted it if he had had a choice. It felt as private as a room on a crowded unit could. The headboard of his bed was up against the outward-facing wall, so he didn't have to try to sleep through someone snoring in the next room, and when his nightmares or withdrawal symptoms woke him up, he could have a nice long walk down to the day room and back to calm himself down. In terms of decor, it was nothing special. The walls were white, save for the few pieces of bright blue and green pieces of chewed chewing gum that were stuck in a wad on the wall between his bed and his nightstand. All of the furniture was made of plain brown Maple and white surfaces and it was all attached firmly to the floor. Cas' sheets and blanket were white, but he'd brought his own pillow from home, which was his favorite shade of light blue. The pillows matched his eyes, and between the white and the blue, his bed had a very soft and sort of floating feel to it. It was very calming. Sometimes when he couldn't sleep at night, he'd pretend he was sleeping on a cloud. It was dumb, but it kept his mind occupied through the long and difficult hospital nights.

Suddenly, Castiel was shaken from his thoughts by a voice. It was Adam, one of the nurses on duty that day.

"Can I have everyone's attention for a moment?" asked Adam. There were a few seconds of shuffling as people put down their books and board games and the television was turned off and all of the patients' attention was on Adam.

"Thanks guys," he said, "I just wanted to let you know that our newest patient just arrived. Meg is showing him around right now as we speak. He's obviously a little upset to be here, so everyone please be on your best behavior today, okay?"

There were some nods and murmured acknowledgements, and everybody went back to what they had been doing before. Cas, on the other hand, got up and decided to grab a coloring page from the stack on the nurse's station desk. He selected a complex looking Mandala and returned to his table, grabbing the plastic bucket of colored pencils on the way.

He had just returned to his seat and begun coloring when Meg, the nurse who he had attacked a few days before, came in with the new patient, obviously in the middle of a tour.

"And this is the day room, where everyone sits and hangs out. We have board games and coloring pages and cards and a TV, so hopefully you'll never be bored here!"

The new patient nodded but didn't say anything, and Cas looked at him. He was broad and muscular, he was tanned and freckled, so it was fairly obvious that he spent some time outdoors. He looked uncomfortable in the blue scrubs that all new patients wore, so even without the muscles and the tan, Cas could have told that he wasn't the "sit around in your sweatpants all day" type.

It took Cas longer than it probably should have to realize that the new patient was staring him down. He looked accusatory, as if he thought that Cas has done something not only wrong but absolutely despicable, and not just in general but directly to him. Cas panicked under the pressure of being scrutinized in that way, his chest tightening and his heartbeat racing.

"I-I'm Cas..." he said uncertainly, as though he weren't entirely sure of his own name. He added an awkward, shaky wave at the last second and then immediately regretted it.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." he thought. It had looked dumb, and now the new guy would think he was a total dork. He wasn't sure why the new guy ever would have thought anything else about him, but he had just ensured that opinion sooner than he would have preferred.

The new guy gave an awkward wave back and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Dean," he said, "Dean Winchester."

"Oh, Dean, sweetie, we don't use last names here. Confidentiality," said Meg quickly. Dean rolled his eyes a little, but apologized and then winked discreetly at Cas. Cas liked the new guy, and it seemed that he liked Cas, too.

Maybe he'd finally make a friend here.


	3. Eyes Stronger Than Drugs

Tick, tock, three o'clock. That could only mean one thing. Group therapy time.

Cas was the first one to enter the big, white room where group therapy was held each day, so he sat in his favorite chair by the window. With all the chairs in a circle, he couldn't actually see out the window, but he always sat near it anyway. He wasn't sure why. He just liked sitting near the window. Sometimes he could hear the birds that perched in the trees that grew in the courtyard below. Cas sighed and closed his eyes, hoping this wouldn't be a particularly long session.

The other patients started to file in, and Cas took sort of a mental attendance as they sat in their seats. The first patient to come in was Ellen. Ellen was a very sweet middle-aged woman who Cas liked quite a bit. She was in for alcoholism, but she was tough. Cas had no doubt that she'd be okay. The next patient to enter the room, however, he wasn't so sure about. Kevin was a sweet kid. He couldn't have been more than 18 or 19, Cas guessed. He was smart and kind and his manners were great. The only problem was, he was completely convinced that he was a prophet who was chosen by God to translate some message. He was convinced that the word of God was hidden in everything from graffiti to newspaper articles to self-help pamphlets. The poor kid had driven himself insane trying to collect all of it. Cas could tell by the way the nurses looked at him that they knew Kevin would be there for a while. Next, in a neat line, came Luc, Garth, and Charlie. Luc was a man about Cas' age who was apparently diagnosed with Narcissitic Personality Disorder. He didn't talk to Cas, so Cas really didn't know much else about him. Garth was a sweet man who carried a sock puppet named Mr. Fizzles with him everywhere he went, and Charlie was a young, nerdy video game addict. Charlie pulled her long red hair back into a ponytail as she took the seat directly across from Cas and gave him a half-smile and a little nod to say hello. A few other patients wandered in and took their seats, and the group leader, a kind, quiet nurse named Michael, took a seat next to Charlie to begin the group. He clapped his hands once and smiled softly at everyone individually.

"Alright, how is everyone today?" he asked. There were murmurs of "Fine" and "Alright" from everyone in the room, and one deep voice that stood out from the rest.

From the doorway, there came one word. "Shitty."

Everyone looked up to see the new guy, Dean, standing in the door. He was wearing an old ACDC t-shirt and a pair of jeans that were slightly too big and were riding low on his hips, since no belts were allowed on the unit. About an inch of his blue plaid boxers could be seen pretty clearly. On his feet was a pair of worn, black combat boots with the laces taken out, being held on his feet with rubber bands wrapped around where the laces would have been, two on each foot. Castiel looked down at his own sneakers, held together in the same way. He smiled a little. Most patients opted to just wear socks all day, but Cas felt more comfortable with shoes on, and even though he wasn't allowed his usual attire (suits weren't exactly appropriate hospital attire) he still felt a little more functional wearing shoes than padding around in socks all day.

"Dean!" exclaimed Michael, smiling, "So glad you decided to join us!"

Dean rolled his eyes a little, which nobody seemed to notice except Castiel. The only empty seat left was the one to his left, so Dean walked over and sat next to him, slumping down and folding his arms across his chest. Cas glanced at the man with him peripheral vision, his side glances drinking Dean's body in like a large glass of ice water on a hot day. As soon as Dean glanced back, Cas looked away, so he had no idea how Dean reacted to his gaze.

What was he talking about? There was no way a guy like Dean would be into him, even if he was queer, which he probably wasn't. Cas shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. Once those thoughts were gone, he distracted himself from the attractive stranger (whose knee was almost touching his) by throwing his full attention into group. He offered some cliche and half-assed advice when he was asked to speak, but chose to keep his own thoughts to himself this time, even though he was normally quite talkative in group therapy. The hour crawled by, and when they were dismissed at the end, Cas couldn't get out of the room fast enough. Was almost to room 225 when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He froze and then after a second, slowly spun around to find himself staring into the greenest eyes he had ever seen. A small splattering of freckles ran across the nose and cheeks of Dean Winchester, and it was his strong hand (also tanned and freckled) that was resting on Castiel's shoulder.

"Cas, right?"

Cas nodded and Dean laughed. A real, hearty cackle that made Castiel feel much more relaxed.

"So," Dean continued with a smirk, "What do you people do for fun in this place?"

Years later he still wouldn't be able to fully explain it, but it was with that sentence that Castiel Milton fell completely and hopelessly in love with Dean Winchester.


	4. First Dance

"Tick tock, Blue Eyes," jested Dean, "I haven't got all day here."

"Yeah, actually, you kind of do," laughed Cas as he finally selected a table for them in the day room and pulled out a chair for Dean to sit in.

"Well, well, well..." Dean said, chuckling and winking at Cas, "Looks like chivalry ain't dead after all, huh?" Cas couldn't help himself. He blushed. He tried to hide the pink in his cheeks as he sat down next to the grown man who was making him act like a schoolgirl with a crush, but he could tell by the satisfied smirk on Dean's face that he had not succeeded.

"So, Castiel, what's your story? What are you in for?"

Cas shuffled in his seat awkwardly. He didn't like remembering the events that had led up to him getting admitted, so he decided to be a little vague.

"Drugs, mostly," he said, hoping that there wouldn't be any follow-up questions. Dean nodded slightly and there was a short and mildly awkward silence.

"What about you?" asked Cas after a moment.

"I..." said Dean, clearly choosing his words carefully, "I went through a rough patch."

Cas waited a moment to see if he was planning to expand on that, but it became apparent that he didn't intend to and Cas didn't want to push him. After all, he had been pretty vague, too.

"So, what can we do to pass the time here? That clock is driving me mad," asked Dean, gesturing with his thumb towards the clock.

Tick, tick, tick.

"Drives me crazy too," said Cas with a small chuckle, "You have no idea."

Dean scanned the room, looking for something to do, and his eyes finally rested on the board games stacked on a table by the nurses station. 

"Wanna play a game?" he asked, "Might help pass the time. Better than sitting around." He winked at Cas again. God, that wink. It made Cas' stomach do flip-flops and aerial twists.

"Yeah, sure," said Cas. They stood up and began to cross the room. "We just have to ask at the nurses station," he said.

Dean leaned over the counter of the station to where a redheaded nurse named Naomi was sitting.

"Can we borrow a game, sweetheart?" he asked, all charm and tousled hair. He winked at her.

"Which one?" she asked, glaring a little. Naomi was all business. She was Cas' least favorite nurse.

"How about Sorry?" asked Cas.

"Sure," said Dean. He turned back to Naomi, "Sorry," he repeated.

Naomi made a note on her clipboard and glanced up at Cas, "Let me know when you're done with it," she said, "You have about an hour and a half until the next group."

Cas nodded at her and they headed back to their table and set up the game.

"What color?" asked Cas.

"Green," said Dean.

"To match your eyes?" Cas joked, hoping he wouldn't make Dean uncomfortable.

"Yes," said Dean with a laugh, "I make sure that all of my board game pieces match my beautiful emerald eyes."

Cas chuckled, but secretly he was trying not to stare at those beautiful emerald eyes. They really were stunning. Unfortunately, his attempts to not stare were not even mildly successful, and it was clear after a few seconds that Dean had noticed his crush once again. Dean smiled and the edges of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly; not with age, but with genuine laughter.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked with a smirk.

Cas blushed again and awkwardly stammered his way through a mumbled apology, causing Dean's sly smile to deepen. Cas suddenly felt something he hadn't felt in a while: butterflies. This was so unlike him. While he did get the flip-flop feeling occasionally, he rarely had butterflies that lingered. Cas was not the "love at first sight" type. In fact, he wasn't really even the type to develop crushes, but there was just something about those eyes and something about the freckles that looked almost splatter-painted across his nose. There was something about his cocky posture and that smirk that just captivated Cas. There was just something about Dean Winchester that Castiel Milton could not quite put his finger on. What was it about this man that was making Cas fall so head over heels?

"So are you?" asked Dean, snapping Cas out of his thoughts.

"What?" asked Cas, his pink cheeks ripening to a bright red.

"I asked if you're queer."

"Oh," said Cas, "Uh, yeah. I guess."

"Yeah or you guess?" laughed Dean, "It's one of the other."

"Yeah, I am," said Cas.

"Alright," replied Dean with a wink, "Something we have in common."

Was Cas being hit on? He wasn't sure. Maybe he was just being friendly.

They played Sorry quietly for a few minutes, only speaking to make comments about the game. Finally, Cas decided to test the waters.

"Glad I finally made a friend here..." he mused, hoping Dean would say something about maybe eventually being more than friends.

"Well," Dean said, "Me too. You don't make friends easy with scars like these."

As he said that, Dean rolled up his sleeves, and Cas stifled a gasp. Dean's arm was criss-crossed with dozens and dozens of deep, pink scars. They were covering most of his skin from his elbows to his wrists, some deeper than others, but all puckered and pink, clearly old enough to have healed from scabs but still fairly new.

"Shit..." whispered Cas.

"Yeah..." mumbled Dean, "Guess you don't want to hang out anymore, huh?"

"Of course I do," said Cas, shocked that Dean would think that.

Dean looked down at Cas' wrists, below where his sleeves were rolled up to.

Dean sighed at the lack of scars there, "Why would you want to hang out with someone covered in these?"

Cas responded by silently rolling his sleeves up above the elbows, revealing his own scars. Hundreds of small needle marks and a few puffy abscesses in the crease of his elbow.

"Because I've got some of my own."


End file.
